This is Definitely not Mukden!
by 3rdArmy
Summary: The year 1905 draws to an end along with the first war of the modern age. For hundreds of thousands of soldiers in the Manchuria, they can finally return to their old lives. For one however, it entails a far longer campaign, in an ever distant land.


Hideaki Sakurai was mystified.

Just last night, he had been asleep within the 2nd Army's camp near Mukden.

He had awoken with his equipment in marching order and his rifle laid by his side.

Sake had most definitely not been issued last night so something was very wrong.

He stood in a clearing, surrounded by a massive forest. The trees would have towered over the government buildings back in Osaka.

Nothing like his former campsite, where the land was instead dominated by rolling hills.

The rustling of brush and the snapping of twigs drew his attention away from the trees and his curious location.

Wolves... Maybe?

They were huge, easily several heads taller than him. Their skin was black as the old powder used in Muratas. Contrasting were the numerous bone white spikes concentrated on its spine. A bone white head turned toward him for a second, its beady red eyes regarded him.

As prey.

He could feel it, a cold sensation ran down his spine momentarily. He could _feel_ its presence.

He smashed the shameful thought. How unworthy for a proud soldier of the Imperial Army to think so timidly! He steeled himself instead and freed his arm from his rifle's sling.

The wolf tensed, and Hideaki broke into a flurry of motion.

In an instant, his Arisaka Type 30 rifle was up to his shoulder, his finger on the trigger and his sights filled with the white and red head of the closest wolf.

 _Bang_

His gun roared its own battle cry and at the same time, hurled a 6.5 millimeter piece of lead at 765 meters per second.

It slammed into the first wolf's head. With a strangled cry it dropped to the floor. A bestial scream rung and they charged at him.

Hideaki's hand flew with practiced ease, racking the bolt back, ejecting the fired cartridge, and chambering a new one.

The pack turned to him, snarled, and charged.

 _Bang_

 _Bang_

 _Bang_

 _Bang_

He could not miss at this range. With each cry of his rifle, a beast fell.

 _Ping_

The last cartridge was ejected. His hand flew to his belt but the last one was upon him, its massive shadowy form dwarfed him. Its red eyes seemingly stared into his soul.

Reflexively, Hideaki stumbled backwards and placed his rifle between him and the creature. The rifle caught both claws but Hideaki was pushed down under the weight of the creature. Not for the first time in his life, he cursed his skinny build for its lack of strength.

With a guttural roar, the wolf disengaged one claw and threw an underarmed swing against him. With a roar of his own, Hideaki twisted the rifle, swinging the butt of the rifle at the approaching threat.

Its strength took him off guard. The impact threw him back a few meters and ripped his rifle from his hands.

His head was ringing and he could see blurry stars, contrasting with the green of the forest and the black of the approaching danger. His breaths came in short gasps as he tried to regain the air that he had lost in collision. Danger.

That galvanized him back into some modicum of action. He tried to focus his failing eyes. The creature charging at him was a black blur, the only distinct detail he could see was the red of its eyes. He tried to scramble back for space, but was stopped instantly. He had slammed into something, he felt it quickly with his left hand. A tree. He was out of options. The monster was bearing down on him, its red eyes spelling death to even his clouded mind. He couldn't run. The tree blocked him and he would die before he cleared the obstacle. His only way was forward. As usual.

His right hand reached across his belt to his left side and drew his favored weapon. His Type 30 bayonet. His bayonet seemed to give him clarity. He could see now. The wolf's right arm was bearing down on him from above. With a roar, he dug his feet into the ground and pushed off the tree with his left arm. The monster's eyes seemed to widen momentarily before Hideaki buried 15.75 inches of steel into its stomach.

Once again he slammed into the tree. Hideaki cursed at his miscalculation of the monster's momentum. He was face to face with it now, staring it directly in the eye. He twisted his knife in the monster's stomach. The thing roared in pain, deafening his eardrums.

Then it gripped his shoulder. Its claws dug into his skin. Hideaki grit his teeth and withdrew his bayonet, about to stab the thing again. Then it dug its other claw into his stomach.

His whole world was pain. His stomach felt as though he had tried to smother a camp fire by laying on it. The pain was maddening. He wanted to scream but found that no sound came forth. He couldn't feel anything else. Only the hellfire in his stomach.

The defining moments of his life flashed through his mind. Nanshan, Mukden, and a half a dozen other battles flashed through his mind.

At Nanshan, he had waded through the shallows under the guns on the hill, while Russian fire reaped his comrades like grain, turning the water red with their blood.

At Shaho, he had charged with his comrades straight into the wall of Russian lead erected by numerous machineguns, their spirits unflinching even as their bodies failed them.

At Mukden, had had desperately held off hordes of towering Russian soldiers in desperate hand to hand combat, personally dispatching twenty of them.

He remembered them all, and suddenly, the fog lifted.

The wolf's back greeted his newfound vision. A new fire ignited within him. Anger. It was even hotter than the immolation in his stomach. He had marched through hell already. Bullets, artillery shells, bayonets. Death had been a constant companion. A goddam overgrown wolf threw him finally into its embrace. That would not do at all. His comrades would laugh their asses off at him when he met them again.

 _No way I am going to die here!_

Qrow Branwen burst into the clearing, scythe out and ready to kick ass.

The locals had reported gunfire. He had been between assignments so what the hell? Why not. He decided to check it out.

A 6 badly decayed beowolves were scattering their ashes into the wind.

Lying on top of one of them, sword in hand, was a boy. He couldn't have been taller than Ruby.

He was unconscious, probably from blood loss. The peculiar dark blue and bright red uniform he wore was soaked in blood.

Qrow crouched down next to him and turned him over, revealing a massive gouge in his stomach. The piss poor medic facilities outside the kingdoms wouldn't be able to treat this and he doubted that the poor sap would survive the ride to Vale anyhow.

Qrow was about to write off the man as just another unfortunate case when he got a look and his face.

It was a boy. Dressed in an odd, blood soaked uniform.

He bore a passing resemblance to Ruby with black hair and an already pale face growing paler through blood loss. But above all, he was around Ruby's age. Ruby's face confronted his mind. He tried to resist but he couldn't help but replace the boy's face with Ruby's. His heart clenched.

 _Goddamit Ruby_

 **AN**

 **This is pretty out of the blue isn't it.**

 **I don't even know how this came to me but yeah. Russo Japanese war soldier stuck in RWBY. One of the more random premises on this site.**

 **Unfortunately there aren't many resources on the Russo Japanese war.**

 **Sources:**

 **A few online sources from multiple years of random research**

 **Saka no ue no Kumo (The clouds above the hill)**

 **Golden Kamui (great manga, worth a read)**

 **Human Bullets (Memoir by Tadayoshi Sakurai, a Lieutenant of the Imperial Japanese Army, wounded during the first general assault on Port Arthur).**

 **Wikipedia.**


End file.
